The Donner Party A ship in the 1700s called the Peggy sits idle and storm-wrecked on the Atlantic Ocean. A scream pierces the silence as the insane sailors murder a slave for food. A plane in 1972 full of Uruguayan rugby players falls out of the sky; its tail separated, its wings torn off, and it lands in a remote section of the Andes. Stranded for ten weeks without food. But perhaps the most famous is the group of eighty or so emigrants traveling to California in 1846 who became snowbound in the Sierra Nevada. The Donner Party. Led by Lansford Hastings, they had taken a horrible route, adding an additional month. And by the time they arrived, the peaks of the Sierra Nevada were already tipped with snow. After a several failed escape attempts the members began to build cabins. The families slaughtered their remaining livestock and stored it. In mid-December, a month and a half of being snowbound, another escape attempt was called for with Franklin Graves, two Miwoks Indians, and twelve others with the aid of snowshoes. They took six days rations of beef jerky and assumed they were to be out of the mountains in that time. They were wrong. The Snowshoe Party’s, or Escape Party’s, leaders were confused. The terrain of the mountains looked incredibly different when it was covered in snow, and on the fourth or fifth day into the journey, the Snowshoe Party took a wrong turn. On the fifth day, the first died, and soon starvation was setting in on the surviving fourteen, suffering from treacherous ailments. Starvation. It’s a scary thing. Starving is not “haven’t eaten in a day,” its cheeks are concave; you can count every rib from a mile away starving. It most definitely gets to your head. It’s constantly on your mind and even invades your dreams. And eventually, you lose your humanity. There is one account when a mouse was scurrying across the snow. The members chased after it, clawing at each other to get to it first. It was thirteen-year-old Lemuel Murphy who got it. And he grabbed it, stuffed it in his mouth, and ate it alive, crunching on its bones as it squirmed between his jaws. The member’s “camp” would later become to be known as the Camp of Death. Franklin Graves would tell his two daughters on his deathbed to use his body for food. Later, Patrick Dolan, insane and babbling, went running out in the snow. He later came back and fell down in front of everyone and died with his back to the sky. Antonio died, as did Lemuel, lying in his sister’s lap. And then the decision was made. Trying to dehumanize their meal, the five men hacked off the hands, feet, and head of the. They then roasted the meat and one by one, making sure no one had to eat their kin; the members gave in and ate. All except the Miwoks, Luis and Salvador. The next day, the Snowshoe Party set off again, the dried meat in their packs. They stumbled for days, completely lost, scaling nearly vertical rifts. Insanity was starting to take over and the gun William Eddy held became very tempting to fire. They began to see each other as nothing but meals. William Foster approached William Eddy and proposed they murder Luis and Salvador for food. Eddy refused and the Indians later slipped away. Days later, Jay Fosdick died and the savages immediately went after the body. Sarah Fosdick, now a widow did not take part, but had to bear seeing her husband’s heart roasted on a stick. And then the party came across the dying Miwoks. Foster shot them both, murdering them and the party stripped the bones of their flesh and heartlessly moved on. The seven were eventually rescued and told of the people still trapped in the mountains. A rescue party known as the First Relief headed out to get the trapped people, bringing some down. Several days later, the Second Relief, led by James Reed, made his way up to the mountains. On the way back, they discovered animals had eaten their food and destroyed their supplies. Reed took whoever was able make it, including his family, and headed out, leaving the rest by a fire, awaiting the rescue Reed was going to bring. Slowly the fire melted the snow and the group sank down into a pit with it. Up above were the bodies of a few people who had already died including Elizabeth Graves. Starving for days, little Mary Donner could take it no longer and suggested they eat the bodies. Patrick Breen made his way up and brought down meat to roast. When the Third Relief found them and brought them up, eight-year-old Nancy Graves horrifically screamed at what she saw. She realized she had been eating her mother. Of the original eighty or so people in the Donner Party, only half survived. And now what remains are the empty, flimsy cabins of past memories, the wind still howling in the mountains like a mourning mother. Bones hidden beneath the snow, as well as lost treasures. Both things to be found next spring. The ordeal was finally over. And if the old saying is true and history repeats itself with its odd pattern, then I can guarantee something like this will happen again. —Harrison Pyros
A ship in the 1700s called the Peggy sits idle and storm-wrecked on the Atlantic Ocean. A scream pierces the silence as the insane sailors murder a slave for food. A plane in 1972 full of Uruguayan rugby players falls out of the sky; its tail separated, its wings torn off, and it lands in a remote section of the Andes. Stranded for ten weeks without food. But perhaps the most famous is the group of eighty or so emigrants traveling to California in 1846 who became snowbound in the Sierra Nevada. The Donner Party. Led by Lansford Hastings, they had taken a horrible route, adding an additional month. And by the time they arrived, the peaks of the Sierra Nevada were already tipped with snow.
After a several failed escape attempts the members began to build cabins. The families slaughtered their remaining livestock and stored it.
In mid-December, a month and a half of being snowbound, another escape attempt was called for with Franklin Graves, two Miwoks Indians, and twelve others with the aid of snowshoes. They took six days rations of beef jerky and assumed they were to be out of the mountains in that time. They were wrong.
The Snowshoe Party’s, or Escape Party’s, leaders were confused. The terrain of the mountains looked incredibly different when it was covered in snow, and on the fourth or fifth day into the journey, the Snowshoe Party took a wrong turn.
On the fifth day, the first died, and soon starvation was setting in on the surviving fourteen, suffering from treacherous ailments.
Starvation. It’s a scary thing. Starving is not “haven’t eaten in a day,” its cheeks are concave; you can count every rib from a mile away starving. It most definitely gets to your head. It’s constantly on your mind and even invades your dreams. And eventually, you lose your humanity.
There is one account when a mouse was scurrying across the snow. The members chased after it, clawing at each other to get to it first. It was thirteen-year-old Lemuel Murphy who got it. And he grabbed it, stuffed it in his mouth, and ate it alive, crunching on its bones as it squirmed between his jaws.
The member’s “camp” would later become to be known as the Camp of Death. Franklin Graves would tell his two daughters on his deathbed to use his body for food. Later, Patrick Dolan, insane and babbling, went running out in the snow. He later came back and fell down in front of everyone and died with his back to the sky. Antonio died, as did Lemuel, lying in his sister’s lap. And then the decision was made.
Trying to dehumanize their meal, the five men hacked off the hands, feet, and head of the. They then roasted the meat and one by one, making sure no one had to eat their kin; the members gave in and ate. All except the Miwoks, Luis and Salvador.
The next day, the Snowshoe Party set off again, the dried meat in their packs. They stumbled for days, completely lost, scaling nearly vertical rifts. Insanity was starting to take over and the gun William Eddy held became very tempting to fire.
They began to see each other as nothing but meals. William Foster approached William Eddy and proposed they murder Luis and Salvador for food. Eddy refused and the Indians later slipped away.
Days later, Jay Fosdick died and the savages immediately went after the body. Sarah Fosdick, now a widow did not take part, but had to bear seeing her husband’s heart roasted on a stick.
And then the party came across the dying Miwoks. Foster shot them both, murdering them and the party stripped the bones of their flesh and heartlessly moved on.
The seven were eventually rescued and told of the people still trapped in the mountains. A rescue party known as the First Relief headed out to get the trapped people, bringing some down. Several days later, the Second Relief, led by James Reed, made his way up to the mountains. On the way back, they discovered animals had eaten their food and destroyed their supplies. Reed took whoever was able make it, including his family, and headed out, leaving the rest by a fire, awaiting the rescue Reed was going to bring.
Slowly the fire melted the snow and the group sank down into a pit with it. Up above were the bodies of a few people who had already died including Elizabeth Graves. Starving for days, little Mary Donner could take it no longer and suggested they eat the bodies. Patrick Breen made his way up and brought down meat to roast. When the Third Relief found them and brought them up, eight-year-old Nancy Graves horrifically screamed at what she saw. She realized she had been eating her mother.
Of the original eighty or so people in the Donner Party, only half survived. And now what remains are the empty, flimsy cabins of past memories, the wind still howling in the mountains like a mourning mother. Bones hidden beneath the snow, as well as lost treasures. Both things to be found next spring. The ordeal was finally over.
And if the old saying is true and history repeats itself with its odd pattern, then I can guarantee something like this will happen again.
—Harrison Pyros